


It's the fall of Rome, my Caligula syndrome (Gotham Tap Water)

by W_Snale



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Edward Nygma, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Slow Burn, also im teaching myself polish so like thats an advantage, and also dont care about canon, but these gay idiots need something good, i know hes cannonically hungarian but listen, i skipped a lot of gotham when i watched it, lead poisoning, my mother is polish and i know that way better, not tagging every character, oh my god is this canon divergent, polish penguin, written by an autistic person so like actually a good ish portrayal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W_Snale/pseuds/W_Snale
Summary: "The standardized scores for each water quality parameter are based on predetermined rating curves, such that a score of 100 indicates excellent water quality and a score of 0 indicates poor water quality." - from the United Nations paper on global drinking water quality.Or, Gotham tap water is mildly toxic and probably affects the quality of criminal they produce. Mayor Cobblepot (unknowingly) will set this right.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65





	1. Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! this is a dumb idea i cant stop telling my brother about so ive finally written it. Also ive decided the penguin is polish and canon cannot stop me. Thanks for reading this :)

The butterfly effect, for all its infamy, is perhaps often overstated. Most of the time crushing a butterfly, does not in fact lead to a typhoon. After all, butterflies vastly outnumber tropical storms. It is true, however, that a random, unassuming event can change the course of history. For Gotham, this fantastic roll of the dice took the form of Gertrud Kapelput’s younger sister moving to metropolis.

Agnieszka Kapelput was the last of seven children, and the loudest. For weeks after she was born her mother and siblings could barely hear over her wails. When she was 9, she hid in her father’s truck as he took his sons hunting and fought him to allow her to try and shoot a bow as tall as she was. When the Soviet Union fell, she was the first of her family to suggest moving to America, desperate to test her newfound freedom. She left Poland alone, with her father’s hunting knife hidden in her suitcase, stolen from him that night. As she begged, hitchhiked, and stole her way across Europe the only thoughts in her head were of the new world around her. She picked up foreign vocabulary like it was a game, teaching herself using road signs, discarded newspapers, and tv. There were so many tiny differences between where she found herself staying for a night and home. The walls often weren’t painted, but had papers stuck to them covered in intricate designs. There were so many cars on the roads, the stores had full shelves. She catalogued these details with hungry eyes, fascinated. They kept other thoughts from her mind, like her lack of any employable skill, or what she would eat for dinner.

Therefore, once Agnieszka had worked her way up to a two-bedroom apartment in metropolis she was fiercely protective of everything she had built. It was decorated in the style of the home magazines she sometimes bought at the newsagents – a reward for a hard day’s work – but with the influence of home poking in in the most unexpected places. There was a portrait of Pope John Paul II in every room of the house, and cross-stitches gifted to her by her friends on Christmas and birthdays. The apartment’s two bedrooms also meant that she could invite guests over, including her sister. And when Gertrud had a son, she was more than happy to invite him over as well.  
Despite Agnieszka’s bravery, this isn’t a story about her. She deserves her own story but not here, or now. This is instead the story of how Oswald Cobblepot, the king of Gotham himself, got his first taste of clean tap water.

One of the multitudinous theories proposed as to why Rome fell lies in it’s drinking vessels. Scholars have hotly debated that perhaps Caligula wasn’t merely insane but suffering from chronic lead poisoning. Water pipes, cooking pots, and fountains were often made out of lead by the Ancient romans. Why wouldn’t they use lead? It’s a useful metal for construction, and just as easy to find as iron or bronze. As it turns out there is one important reason not to use lead in your water infrastructure – it’s poison. A poison that often causes brain damage.  
The same logic works just as easily for Gotham – a city where murder may as well be a sport. The tap water there has often been referred to as undrinkable, and tourists are often advised to stick to bottled water. Whether it’s the fault of the material used in pipes or the fantastic number of attempts from the city’s “villains” to poison the water supply, the water has a clear effect on Gothamites. When someone snaps in Gotham, they snap bad.

Upon Oswald’s first visit to his aunt’s, he was shocked to discover that what came out of her kitchen taps looked just like the water they sold in supermarkets. It wasn’t murky, or brownish, and tasted like nothing he’d every drank before. Those bottles in the supermarkets were always too expensive to waste any money on, not when they had water at home. When he had asked his aunt why her water was so clean, she laughed gently, assuming he was joking. Oswald was not joking. He looked forward to visits with his aunt even more afterwards, and Gertrud took him for a week every year at Christmas. Aunty Agnieszka was now a plump woman of 28, who baked the best gingerbread and never shouted at Oswald. She tried her best to give him some of her bravery as well, afraid that where Jaruzelski’s government had made her fierce it had made her sister terrified. Gertrud held onto things tightly even as a young girl, aggressively protective of what was hers.

Agnieszka did not have as much of an effect on Oswald as she would like, but she did enough to change the course of Gotham history completely. Because when The Penguin was voted in as mayor of Gotham, his first priority was to fix the city’s water supply.


	2. Cobblepot 2020: Make water drinkable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy guys writing is hard and anyway thank yall for reading my strange fanfiction about gotham water. Anyway ive been fudging timelines and canon bc a) im dumb b) i have no clue what year the show is supposed to be set in so ive gone with nowish and c) fuck canon my city now.

Campaigning came to Oswald like a reflex – manipulating a crowd was the same as manipulating anyone else. The whole process reminded him of a stage magician Fish had hired to perform once, he misdirected and vanished with the best of them. The only difference between the two arts was that even when you knew how the trick worked Oswald could still use it. Speeches were merely an extension of the magician’s toolkit.

“The GCPD has failed to control crime long enough – they refuse to protect and serve the people of Gotham, because they exist only to serve a corrupt system that keeps the rich getting richer and crushes the rest of us.”

_Oswald’s first step was always aligning yourself with the crowd. It’s not good enough to be on the same side as them, you have to be an extension of themselves. Make them trust you the same way you trust your right arm._

“I was born in this city, raised by only my mother. She worked as many jobs as she could to provide for us, and it still was not enough. How many of you lie awake at night, praying that the rent won’t increase this month, that you can feed your children, that you have the money for your heating bill? Our minimum wage has been the same for the past 30 years – it has actually reduced due to inflation. How can we expect our fellow citizens to live like this without turning to crime? And when the GCPD arrests these people, they leave families in even greater poverty. Because they refuse to arrest the real criminals – factories refusing injury compensation, pharmaceutical companies price gouging medications, our mayor refusing to stand for the basic rights of his citizens.”

 _The second step is to acknowledge their problems, but not to pity. Understand their struggles, force them to remember how they feel at their lowest, and then take all that emotion and point the finger at your enemies_.

“Gotham is a city of honest people forced to live dishonest lives. We do not deserve to be treated like criminals when we’re protecting our own. Every citizen deserves to feel safe, not just from crime but from sickness, eviction, unemployment. I can give you this safety. You can have better wages, safer neighbourhoods, nicer homes at only the expense of the corrupt government who put you in the situation you are now in. Vote Cobblepot and I will raise minimum wage, legislate against rent spikes, clean up the water and drop the crime rate.”

_You can acknowledge the problems of the people, but do not pity them. They’re not poor or criminals, they’re citizens who have been forced into the lesser of two evils. Tell them they deserve better without shaming them for having less._

Oswald, ever the showman, stepped down from the podium with a flourish. He and Ed walked back to the car, the latter in a contemplative silence. The car itself was a rush of validation for Oswald – it was black with tinted windows, and most importantly looked like it belonged to an important man. He wasn’t the sort of man to obsess over which model of car had more miles to the gallon (whatever that meant) or even to know what model his own car was, but Oswald understood the importance of appearances. As they sat in the back of the car, Ed cleared his throat.

“If I may – why the tap water? The emphasis you placed on it during today’s speech seemed … disproportionate.” Ed looked at him, unblinking, like a particularly nervous shark as he waited for his answer.

“Because Ed, one of the many advantages of becoming mayor is being able to push this city in the direction I want, and what I want is to be able turn on the kitchen tap and drink a glass of clean water as and when I want.”

“It’s entirely personal?” He smiled at the complete lack of ulterior motive behind the act – Ed approached people like puzzles, and this was a new piece to add to the picture. Oswald tried his best not to take too much pride in the other man’s joy.

“I’ve been fixated on the idea since I was a young boy. I got it in my head that clean tap water was synonymous with success – every other city in America has it.” Ed laughed at this, his bright teeth showing. Does he use whitening strips? Oswald thought. It didn’t seem like something Ed would bother with.

“That’s very Gotham isn’t it? At least we’re unique.”

Ed liked routine. He liked patterns and games and things being as they should, and that applied to his own life as well. He woke at 7am every morning, and 8 on weekends, every Sunday he gave himself half an hour to solve the Gotham Times’ crossword (it was double the size on Sundays), and he took his lunch break at the same time every day. This exacting standard may help explain why Ed hated showering so much. He didn’t hate the act, not at all, but the uncertainty. He couldn’t allot space for a shower every day at 10pm because the quality of the water changed day to day. He had to capitalise on days when the water that came out of the spout was clear, waiting when it wasn’t.

Today was one of the days when it wasn’t. He felt like he was itching out of his skin, he knew he was supposed to be showering and that this was wrong. Anything he tried to do to distract himself just frustrated him more, acutely aware that he was not supposed to be doing this now. He had scheduled washing just before bed for a reason, because this would have thrown off his entire day otherwise. He wandered into the kitchen, crackling with purposelessness energy, and began trying to assemble a rudimentary rube Goldberg machine out of various kitchen materials. Usually he could spend hours on a task like this, building a puzzle to perform a simple task was something he found both hilarious and beautiful. But now the trial and error of physics was taking its toll, and only served to wind him up further.

“Rough evening?” Came a voice from behind him. He hadn’t heard Oswald walking up behind him and did his level best not to jump when he spoke. His level best was not quite enough, and his shock was clear.

“No. Just tired is all.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll make tea for two then.” It was clear Oswald didn’t believe him; it wasn’t even a good lie. Ed cursed himself for not being more composed.

He sat at the kitchen island, surrounded by the mess of what was supposed to be a rube Goldberg machine, and tried to make sense of the patterns on the wallpaper. The sound of Oswald making tea was strangely meditative – the tap running, and then the boil and whistle of the kettle (he had insisted on buying one that whistled, Oswald said it reminded him of his mother). It was a simple process, but the certainty of the steps was soothing. Oswald set a mug down in front of Ed, an English breakfast tea with honey, and sat opposite him with his own mug. Ed watched the steam curl upwards as he waited for his mug to cool, and Oswald did the same. There were no expectations to the silence as they drank, neither man needed to say anything more than they had. When he had finished his cup, Ed bid him goodnight and left for a bed that was now more inviting than intimidating.


	3. Oswald Cobblepot: not as corrupt as he'd like to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhhh time for bureaucracy and to start writing women better than the show ever did (hot tip - give them personalities and goals outside of j*m g*rdon).

Victory, although sweet, was a fleeting high. When Oswald woke up to his first official day as mayor the rush of the night before had all but left him. He’d already convinced the people of Gotham he was going to be a good mayor, now he had to convince the councilmembers. He had to be corrupt to appease the council and honest to secure the popular vote. If he didn’t appease all the various crime families of Gotham, he imagined they’d find some way to depose him. Oswald had already asked Ed to check for any laws prohibiting a mayor from having a criminal record, but he was sure his enemies would find some way to threaten his power. But he was the penguin. He’d give them a run for their money and would end the war a good deal richer than he was at the start. And he had Ed on his side now – between the two of them they could hold this city for as long as it stood.

Therefore, with all that was riding on today, it was perfectly reasonable for Oswald to have spent half an hour choosing this morning’s suit. He had made his money, earned his power, through manipulating people. In particular, manipulating their expectations of him. The majority of communication lies in visual cues, so Oswald worked with what he had. What he had was a limp, a suspicious looking face, and terrible luck. So he added on expensive suits, an air of desperation, and confusing hair. When people looked at him they saw a powerful man, but one who would be easy to steal that power from. He forced his enemies to underestimate him, to doubt his skill, and when they prepared to attack him, they prepared to attack a much weaker foe. The suit he wore that morning was vital, and it showed. The black wool of the jacket looked just as expensive to the layperson as it did to the expert, and the fit was perfect. Today’s cane (because Oswald could already tell that today was going to be a cane day) had a bronze handle molded into the shape of a bird and a dagger concealed within. After all, it pays to be cautious.

Ed was sat at the dining table, finishing the crossword, exactly as he was every morning. You could set your watch by Ed’s routine, and sometimes Oswald did. He admired Ed for the stability he brought to the day – after a few months of cohabiting Oswald had his routine memorized. He knew that Ed needed a copy of the Gotham Times by 7:30 every day and had had stern words with the delivery boy on the singular occasion he was late. It did not happen again, and the boy was compensated for his punctuality.

Just as Oswald knew this, Ed knew which Polish food stores Oswald preferred, and when he was in the area, he picked up the superior brand of Krówki for him. He had listened to Oswald ranting, at length, about how Olga’s taste in candy was clearly wrong and only an idiot would buy Wawel brand Krówki. And so, by Oswald’s first day as mayor the two had developed an almost clairvoyant understanding of the other. He knew that Ed knew he was on edge (Oswald would never describe himself as anxious), but that he knew Oswald would prefer to ignore the entire situation than confront it. As Oswald walked into the dining room, Ed offered him a small smile and pretended to take longer at his crossword than usual in a show of solidarity.

“Councilmembers, as you may or may not know, I did not buy this election. The people’s support is what has elevated me to the position of mayor, and so my priority is to fulfil the needs and expectations of the people. There will, of course, be room for personal gain within my government. But as I must appear committed to the people, my first initiative as mayor will be to invest in the infrastructure of Gotham. Namely, our water supply.”

The meeting room of suits in front of Oswald both frustrated and intimidated him. They had the power to make serious problems for Oswald, but by Christ were they boring. They were obsessed with the short term, couldn’t see how anything benefited them if it wasn’t shoved directly into their faces. They also wore boring suits and led boring lives, with no real goals outside cheating on their third wives with their soon to be fourth wives. That, admittedly, was a personal resentment but he allowed himself a moment to be petty.

Predictably, the council weren’t massive fans of Oswald’s new initiative. They apparently failed to see that people will only tolerate so many tax raises in a year without basic human rights. That was fine – all he needed right now was their begrudging respect. Soon they’d either learn to trust him to line their pockets, or not to cross him. Either was okay with him.

They’d secured the go ahead on setting up a committee for the project, and that was the main thing. Some roles were easy to fill – the construction jobs would be an excellent way to make allies with some of the lesser known crime families, all he had to do was pick a worthy candidate to oversee it. Some roles … weren’t.

“How have we managed to rule out every god damned doctor in this city?” Oswald fumed – he and Ed had spent the last three hours trying to find a suitable doctor to evaluate the health risks of the current water, and to monitor the effect of the new system.

“Leave it to Gotham to not have a single doctor that isn’t a corruption risk.” Ed was straightening out the heavy discard pile on the desk, knocked askew by Oswald’s anger. At some point in the past three hours he had shed his suit jacket, and more than a few strands of hair had been knocked out of place. As he crossed out yet another name on his list, a look came over his face. Oswald knew that look.

“Well?”

“I have an idea of where we can find a doctor – everyone involved is going to hate this though.” Oswald sighed, and prepared himself for whatever madness Ed had in store.

As Lee (Dr Thompkins to you, thank you very much) approached Gotham City Hall, she started regretting answering an email that required her to meet with the “Gotham Water Works Project” during her lunch break. She was legally entitled to an hour of peace, and she would very much like to take it. When she entered the pre-arranged meeting room, any frustration she had felt was replaced with pure disbelief. She took one look at the two men at the other end of the room, and opened her mouth intending to politely excuse herself from the meeting.

“For fuck’s sake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the polish candy thing is the hill i will choose to die on (Krowki is like this awesome butter fudge but theres an obviously superior brand). I have strong feelings about one specific thing okay.


	4. Cobblepot 2020: Friendship is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee Thompkins gets a new job, Ed has a bad time, and Oswald has had enough of this whole thing.

“No. I am not dealing with either of you two or your nonsense today. I refuse.” Lee made a move to the door, daring them to stop her. She was leaving while she still could, before this became yet another hostage situation.

“Wait!” Both Oswald and Ed shouted, the latter doing his best to look non-threatening, and the former drawing a gun. Of course, Lee thought, time to start waving guns at people.

“Oswald put down the gun. I don’t think it’s helping the situation.” Ed looked at Lee, rolled his eyes, and turned back. Oswald lowered the gun reluctantly.

“The safety wasn’t even off! And it stopped her leaving didn’t it?”

“Not for long.” As Lee replied she was already halfway out the door, capitalising on whatever just happened with an escape attempt.

“Just hear us out – we’re actually going to help people for once.” Ed shouted, desperate, and Lee paused in the doorway. She weighed up the pros and cons in her mind – Oswald was the mayor now and holding her hostage for some sort of Jim Gordon related situation would do more harm to his career than good. She sat down in the furthest chair from the two that she could find, closest to the door.

“You have three minutes to explain yourselves, and if I don’t like what I hear I leave. And- “

“Yeah, you’re engaged to the son of Carmine Falcone. We get it. No funny business.” Ed cut her off, conscious of their time limit.

“Simply put, we want to rebuild the city’s water infrastructure. The end goal is that all tap water in Gotham city is safe and clean – but to justify replacing the entire city’s water pipes and treatment plant we first need to prove that the current water supply is unsafe.” Oswald explained.

“The water’s brown most days – that should be proof enough.” Lee interjected, hating the fact that she was already interested in the proposal.

“You would think! But we need scientific evidence overseen by a qualified doctor that our tap water is below the standards set by the EPA. And we can’t find a doctor we can trust not to fudge the data, because based on the fact that the quality of our water has been below federally mandated levels since the 1974 clean water act was passed someone clearly has a vested interest in keeping Gotham’s water dirty.” Eds face lit up when he got to the 1974 clean water act – he’d been up all night researching the history of water sanitation and good lord was it fascinating.

“What makes you think I’ll agree to help then? You’re both murderous assholes and I want nothing more to do with the both of you.”

“And there’s the moral compass we need! I want clean tap water because honestly? That’s how you know you’ve made it. That’s success. But, and here’s the key, when I say the whole city, I mean it. Even the narrows.” Oswald leaned in on that last sentence, the effect somewhat ruined by the meeting table’s distance between them.

“Fine. One condition – the narrows is first priority for clean tap water. Actually no – both your house and the narrows. That way I’ll know the water is safe.”

Ed and Oswald gave each other a look, and then beamed at Lee. She couldn’t decide whether it was creepy or sweet that the two of them were so close. Instead of deciding, she left.

“So, this really isn’t a convoluted way to get back at Jim?” She asked, once again poking her head through the door.

“No? We need your medical degree and ethics, not your ex-fiancé.” Lee nodded to herself. She liked the sound of that.

It had been a week of Oswald being mayor and Ed had been having what he was charitably calling “a couple of rainy days”. He was on his third cup of coffee that day. It might have been his fourth, actually. He wasn’t too sure of what had happened in the last hour, but someone had boiled the kettle and it seemed like it was him. He’d forgotten to go to sleep the night before because he’d been in the middle of writing a very stern letter to the creators of words with friends about the current list of admissible words because quite frankly the current vocabulary list wouldn’t satisfy a state schooled 13 year old. And then he’d gotten into a rabbit hole when he tried to make a point about the Oxford English dictionary and had to fact check himself. And by then it was 7 am and his alarm went off.

He didn’t react well to caffeine in the first place, so the decision to drink a Dr Faster Faster (an energy drink only legally sold in Gotham and certain regions of China) could only be blamed on the fact that his sleepy brain panicked. And the coffee later in the day was only because you can only really get so wet – there’s no real difference between standing in a storm for an hour or a day. Up until recently he’d been doing an admirable job of functioning but based on his spotty memory of the past hour things were probably pretty dire about now.

“Ed. You’ve been staring at that wall for the last 10 minutes.” Ed spun around fast, tripped over his long legs into the table nearby, and barely managed to move into a casual side lean. He really regretted the past 24 hours now.

“I was having thoughts.” He garbled out, and the confusion on Oswald’s face mirrored his own. He wasn’t sure what he meant to say but it probably wasn’t that.

“That’s a first.” Oswald took a breath and continued. “You should really sit down Ed – you’re dizzy.”

“No, I’m fine. Doing great!” Oswald glared at him.

“Sit down before you fall down.” Ed sat down. Oswald could have left it there, said something vaguely comforting and casually ignored the situation. That was really how they dealt with each other, afraid of crossing a line. Nights like these were full of arms almost extended, half promises of tenderness considered then swept aside. Plausible deniability was key – they may have been comfortable cohabiting in the abstract, but true intimacy crosses the line between the working relationship and the truly personal. Therefore, both Ed and Oswald were surprised when the latter asked:

“What’s been going on with you all day?” 

“You noticed? Earlier I mean. Obviously, you noticed now.”

“I can tell the difference between genuine and forced interest, yes.” Ed gave a small frown.

“Ah. My apologies.”

“Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s really nothing. I just haven’t slept, and I don’t take well to caffeine. That’s all.” He did his best at a casual smile, already reluctant to admit to weakness.

“Is that it? I spent all day trying to figure out what you were thinking and that’s it? Please, for both our sakes just say something next time.” Oswald looked reassured, and the anxiety that had been building in Ed’s chest released. But Oswald continued, “You clearly can’t just stay in the kitchen and stare at a wall until you fall asleep. Let’s just watch university challenge in the living room, and for the love of god, stop drinking coffee.”

Ed smiled. University challenge was a good pick, it felt safe. The idea of sitting with Oswald and watching it, surprisingly, also felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone tell my dumbass brother that "You can only get so wet" is already a fucking expression and that I'm right. Anyway. Thanks for reading and my brother has told me to credit him for proof reading so you should bully him for being lame please. He's literally showing me the meme he made and saying "I'm so funny" so Axel if you're reading this thanks for reading ig you weird little man.


	5. Cobblepot 2020: Lead poisoning is a 'we' problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have lead poisoning and now they know about it.

Lee was very aware of the test results in her bag, the simple numbers printed on white paper filed snugly inside her handbag. She had checked them over herself, twice even, but no, they were accurate. Accurate and concerning.

She sat down at the same meeting table as the week before, but this time much more comfortable. On their own they were violent and unhinged, but for some reason when you put Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma together, they became something close to functioning members of society. She hadn’t had much cause to interact with either of them during the week but had started paying more attention to local news. What she saw was most likely far from reality, but still it was comforting to see a mayor at least pretend to care about Gotham.

“I’ll cut to the chase: it’s so much worse than we thought.” Lee said as she pulled her the folder from her bag, a leather handbag large enough to be practical while still looking professional. She’d kill to be able to use a backpack at work – they were so much better for back pain and left her hands free – but she was as bound by her image as anyone else. More so really, because the GCPD had an extremely strict idea of appropriate work attire when it came to female employees.

“How can it possibly be worse than we thought? What’s worse than carcinogenic runoff?” Ed asked – he had written the first speculative report on the quality of the water and was already concerned about his years of drinking from the taps.

“Among other non-toxic pollutants, we’ve found elevated levels of barium, cadmium and aluminium. There are also a number of chemical compounds we’ve yet to be able to properly identify, but they seem harmful as well. Also, and this is probably the worst part, the lead levels are at 5 times the legal limit.”

“Lead?” Ed asked, shocked.

“LEAD?!” Oswald shrieked. Lee winced, prepared to get the taser out of her bag (not strictly legal, but this is Gotham.) “So, I have lead poisoning?” Oswald continued, pulling his signature ‘I’m very upset’ smile.

“If you’ve been drinking the tap water for over a month, you have chronic lead poisoning. So the entire city has lead poisoning, if that helps.”

“what, pray tell, are the symptoms of lead poisoning?”

“Headaches, abdominal pain, joint pain, difficulties concentrating, general mental instability.” Ed fired off, automatically. He wasn’t really processing the information, just declaring what he had memorised in college. Based on Oswald’s face, he was very much processing that information and was connecting some very personal dots.

“The good news is there’s no feasible way for anyone to legally counter the rebuilding of the city’s water infrastructure.” Lee was aware this really wasn’t very good news, but this was all she could offer. Besides, it didn’t seem like either man really heard her, both too absorbed by the news. She almost felt bad for them, but then she remembered Kristen Kringle. Working with the two of them almost made her forget who they were, what they’d done. And she couldn’t. It was the same way she couldn’t look at Jim and not think about the people he’d killed, even with the best of intentions. She had taken an oath, first do no harm, and she would keep it even if it killed her.

They hadn’t really spoken much after that. Ed thought it best to cut the day short, and they were driven home in silence. It was. It was a lot. Ed cursed himself for not being able to properly describe how he felt, but truth be told he didn’t know exactly. He had drank Gotham tap water all his life. His family weren’t poor, but they also didn’t believe in waste. So he had lead poisoning. He had Lead Poisoning. What was he supposed to do about that? Genuinely. Chelation therapy, supplied the part of his brain that sat through a forensic chemistry masters. Not helpful for chronic lead poisoning is it though?

All his god forsaken life Ed had trusted his mind. It was all he really had sometimes. And all this time he’d had brain damage? He felt a sudden pang of envy for the Edward Nygma without lead poisoning. Where was he in that alternate reality? He could have been a successful forensic scientist, somewhere better and brighter than the GCPD. He could have a family, be happy.

It wasn’t actually that he wasn’t happy right now. Being Oswald’s chief of staff wasn’t perfect, but for the first time in a while he didn’t feel completely aimless. But also surely this wasn’t the best version of Ed out there? He’d been in Arkham asylum for god’s sake. Ed without lead poisoning had probably never been incarcerated.

“I have lead poisoning.” Oswald repeated solemnly, from across the dinner table. It was the first time either of them had spoken in an hour.

“We have lead poisoning.” Ed agreed.

“Is there any way to reverse the damage?”

“No – all we can do is stop it from getting any worse.”

“Okay.” Oswald nodded, calm. He wasn’t calm in the traditional sense; he was the eye of a storm. Battened down by rage and confusion on all sides, there was no emotion left for him to feel. He continued:

“The only question left then, is how in control of our actions are we?” Ed almost smiled at their parallel thinking.

“Which parts of us are the leftover symptoms of lead poisoning?”

“Exactly.”

“There’s no real way to know.” Ed said with a wince, forever the bearer of bad news.

“Then I am going to assume that only my bad decisions are the result of lead poisoning, and the rest is pure Oswald Cobblepot.” He smiled at this coping mechanism – it didn’t address the root cause of anything, but it squared the information away in his mind. Ed wondered how often Oswald did that, simplified trauma until it was something he could manage. He felt that was probably what Oswald had done with his mother, ignored her failings until he could only feel simple rage, a desire for revenge. It’s easier to mourn a saint than a person.

“That’s one way to look at it.” Ed couldn’t put thoughts away as neatly as Oswald, and he couldn’t just leave it at that. Would Ed without brain damage have killed Kristen Kringle? Part of him felt he’d be happier that way, still working for the GCPD and in committed relationship with the woman he loved. The rest of him thought that sounded boring – forensics may be fascinating, but there was only so much he could investigate at the GCPD. He needed a change, and the past few months had been full of them.

Oswald, to his dismay, liked children. In the back of his mind, his idea of a success ended in a comfortable house, a husband, two kids and maybe a dog. He didn’t think about that much, because it was obviously impossible. He had never even told his mother he was gay, let alone allowed himself a long term relationship. Which is why he hated these mayoral visits – it was a reminder of what he could never have.

They were in a second grade classroom, and Oswald was being interviewed, in a manner, by the children. Whoever had thought up this activity clearly had far too much faith in the manners of 8 year olds, and Oswald was prepared for a barrage of insensitive questions.

“why are you called the penguin?” Piped up a small voice, as a girl wearing a too large pinafore waved her hand frantically. Oswald tensed, not really sure how to explain that to a child. When it came down to it, it was a cruel nickname and turning it into a part of his performance was maybe not the best idea long term.

“Its because Mayor Cobblepot wears suits that look like a penguin’s feathers.” Ed chipped in, helpfully.

“Why do you use a walking stick? Only my nan uses a walking stick and she’s old.” They were really going for all the awkward questions today, weren’t they? Thankfully, this was a question children asked a lot. He knew how to manage it without exploding at them.

“I have arthritis – which is more common in the elderly, but can also affect younger people as well. It’s difficult for me to walk without support, so I use a cane.” The child nodded, satisfied with this.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur?” All the children were listening now – this question actually meant something to them. Oswald, who hadn’t had cause to think about dinosaurs for some time, named one at random.

“The Baryonyx.”

“Why?” Was this really the test Oswald would fail? He could smooth-talk his way out of a death sentence but couldn’t provide small children with goddamned dinosaur facts.

“I think the mayor likes the baryonyx the best because of it’s distinctive front claws. It had one claw on each arm – but the claws were almost the size of your arm!” Thank god for Ed, Oswald thought, and his random barrage of knowledge. The children were now far more interested in his stream of dinosaur facts and were busy asking him which dinosaur was the biggest, and who would win if it fought a T Rex. Oswald used this welcome break to actually look around the classroom – and saw a small boy sat at the back on his own. Based on his visits to various schools, he knew this wasn’t uncommon. Small children are often accidentally crueller than their grown counterparts. But this child wasn’t trying desperately to escape his classmate’s attention – he was carefully observing the room around him. Oswald slipped away from the rest of the class, still enraptured by Ed’s dinosaur facts, and approached the boy.

“Why aren’t you sat with the rest of the class?” He asked, sitting on one of the small classroom chairs, knowing better than to attempt to crouch. The boy paused for a moment and picked up the pad around his neck to begin writing a response. Oswald masked his surprise – if the boy didn’t speak it would explain why he had trouble with his peers.

“ _I don’t like them, and they don’t like me.”_ The boy had written.

“Fair enough. What’s your name? I’m Oswald.” This child was a kindred spirit – it wouldn’t do to merely refer to him as the boy.

 _“Martin.”_ The boy paused, and wrote, _“Do you know how to garrotte someone?”_

“Where did you get that idea from?” Oswald was half scandalised, and half proud.

_“A history book.”_

Ed watched Oswald out of the corner of his eye as they were driven back to city hall. He was in a surprisingly good mood, normally when they left school visits Oswald was subdued. It felt far too personal for Ed to actually ask what was going on, so he made educated guesses in his head. Today implied that his previous assumption, that Oswald simply found children tiring, was incorrect. He had spent almost twenty minutes talking to a child in the back of the second-grade classroom. Half of Ed’s job was puzzling out Oswald, but it was also more than that. He had come to the conclusion that he was really his closest friend, and it felt right. It felt like caring about the many moods of Oswald Cobblepot was what he was meant to do. And so, he spent the rest of the car ride weighing up the information in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this is very late bc i have depression and college so whoopsies. Also martin gets introduced early bc i say so. Thank you for reading this mess - it means a lot.


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